TRP: Hansel and Mishka (Mutual Comfort)
Day 267, on the ship to Sanctuary. Eventually, Hansel left Goro alone. Well, not alone -- left him with Larkin, and with Luci skulking around awkwardly nearby -- but it was still with a fucking lot of reluctance. He grabbed Larkin in a quick, tight hug that probably confused the shit out of her and left Goro to explain what he'd fuckin' done. Figured she could handle it from there. He wanted to check on Raef, but he didn't have the energy. Tracked down Mishka, instead. The ship they'd chartered had a captain and a crew already, but that didn't stop Mishka from taking command -- taking care of things -- until Hansel found him, picked him up (getting an ah, well then, and no complaints), and carried him belowdecks to an unoccupied cabin. He closed the door quietly behind them, wedged a chair under the knob one-handed, then dropped down on the bed to bury his face in Mishka's chest and stomach. That was better. Some of the tension eased away. The lingering tension that was always there when Mishka wasn't in his arms. The rest, though -- the Goro died tension, and the my kids might be dead tension, the I wasn't there to protect people tension, the I couldn't save Raef's husband tension -- we all saw what happens to Gruumsh's chosen when he's done with them -- all of that was still there. He breathed in. Wasn't going to go away, either. Might lessen, though, if just held his husband tight enough. COYOTE Mishka kept pretending he was good. Kept pretending he was okay. Kept his nails away from his skin, because that was a tell, and focused on counting his breaths instead, like Joan taught him. Gavi seemed fine; she was her usual dickish self, and seemed content to look after the baby. Larkin seemed to be in her usual bad mood-- which Mishka was starting to find charming. He wanted to check in on Raef, but he decided to save it until Raef was alone. Goro looked sick-- (Are you alright? D’you get sea sick? Mishka had asked, once, a long time ago. That’s fucking adorable.) Mishka nudged him with a nausea cure a few times and flirted with him until, irritated, Goro finally took it. Luci seemed subdued. Or rather, he supposed, more subdued than normal. He made a mental note to check on her once he had a moment. (He kept thinking about Roddy, alone and captured or dead, lying with his shell split open. If Roddy were here he’d be loudly annoyed and complaining but still trying to help, and Mishka could look after him too. If Joan were here she’d be cool and calm, but she wasn’t, she was dead.) Mishka kept a hold on it for as long as he could. . He wanted to go get Hansel. He wished he could secret Hansel away in some small room with no windows or doors. Wanted to bury his face in Hansel’s shoulder and cling to him until everything was safe and quiet again. But he knew-- he knew-- the fucking instant he hugged Hansel, he was going to burst into tears. Hansel was already taking care of everyone else, like he always did. He couldn’t take care of Mishka too. Then Hansel came out onto deck and snatched Mishka up. Carried him off, shut them both in cabin, locked the door, shoved a chair under the handle, and pinned Mishka against the bed to bury his face in Mishka’s chest. His breath came slow and shaky. His hands fisted in Mishka’s clothes. And, in an instant, all of Mishka’s paranoia and anxiety melted away. Hansel needed him. He wrapped his arms around Hansel’s back and kissed the top of Hansel’s hair softly and slowly, then rested his nose there and closed his eyes. “It’s okay, my love,” he said. “Neshama, my soul, my love. I have you.” He kissed Hansel’s hair again and again, asking no questions, not making Hansel talk just yet. Just holding him until his breathing had calmed. Hansel was always his anchor. And Mishka hoped-- privately, selfishly-- that he could be Hansel’s buoy. Something Hansel could grab onto to keep himself up when he was drowning. “I have you,” Mishka said again. IZZY "Mmf." Hansel kind of nodded, kind of just burrowed into Mishka. Relaxed a little more. Everything from before still didn't go away, but it retreated, like the tide, and he focused on the steady rocking of the ship, the in-and-out of Mishka breathing against him, the quiet reassuring murmurs. He swallowed, and let out a breath. I have you. Okay. Then he shifted up to curl around Mishka more thoroughly, tangle them together, resting his face against Mishka's neck with his lips on his husband's heartbeat. Strong. Calm. He knew Mishka had to be fucking terrified. Joan was at the Sanctuary, and Roddy was -- Amari, too. It wasn't just Hansel's family in fucking danger, it was theirs, and Hansel had disappeared on him for a while, taking care of Goro. Would've Sent, maybe, if he hadn't already used his bead, but he didn't know what the fuck he could've said in twenty-five words. Easier, this way. Closer. At least he could tell Mishka that the fuckin' wand was gone. And something unclear in a vision about Rexarius. Told himself it didn't matter, because he was putting his trident clear into that goddamn thing's brain through its eye anyway, but he fucking dreaded acknowledging that an actual fucking god was concerned about it. It was fine, though. Hansel was going to kill a fucking god, too. Completely fine. He kissed Mishka's neck tiredly. "You eaten?" There was a problem he could solve. Couldn't make sure Roddy was alive, but he could make sure Mishka had eaten some of the stew he'd left in the galley, at least. COYOTE “Yes.” It was a lie, but there were others things to deal with. Mishka wrapped one arm around Hansel’s back and the other around his neck, delicately pressing two fingers against Hansel’s pulse, making no motion to hide the gesture. He took a moment to just lay there and breathe, enjoying the weight of Hansel’s body lying on top of his. “What happened?” he said. He touched Hansel’s face, delicately, directing it upwards to him, guiding but not forcing. IZZY Hansel grumbled quietly, not because he didn't want to talk about it yet, just because it was still ... fucking upsetting. He let Mishka guide him up, and looked at him for a moment before closing his eyes. "Goro used the fuckin' Leech," he muttered. "Brought back Raef's husband, from the jawbone. Fuckin' ... s'fine. Only 'cause of Luci, though." He ground his teeth together, feeling it again -- the slipping away. Held onto Mishka tighter. "Fucking wand backfired. He was gone." He curled his face back into Mishka, taking another steadying breath. He was just too fuckin' drained to sob about it anymore. COYOTE That little motherfucker. He wasn't sea-sick. He was using the goddamn Leech again. Ah, well. That was clever of him, using the Leech to revive Azrael and then using Luci to revive himself. Mishka frowned absently. When they got back to land, maybe he could pay Lyra to manufacture a fake Leech-- something that looked identical-- then delicately break it, then swap the broken fake Leech with Goro's real wand, then act surprised when Goro discovered the pieces. Ah, hm. Maybe it'd just be faster and easier to steal the real Leech and break it. Hm. Well. He'd think about it. The important fucking thing was, Goro wasn't gonna use that goddamn wand anymore, and he wasn't going to fucking upset Hansel like this anymore. Mishka cupped Hansel's face. "Don't worry, my love, my darling. After our next fight, I'll steal it and break it, hm? Just a little, barely much at all, just so it stops working. Then you won't have to worry. See? I won't let him fucking hurt himself anymore, and then we'll be okay." (Should've taken it before. Left it too late. Let it hurt Hansel. Wouldn't let it happen anymore, though. He'd take it and break it. Easy, like snapping a twig. Goro could be mad, fine, as long as they were all safe.) IZZY Hansel scoffed a little. Part of him wished they'd already fuckin' done that -- Mishka was sneaky, he could probably do it without Goro realizing. Then no one'd be hurt, and no one'd be upset. Except Raef. Raef'd be hurt. And Azrael would be dead, still. Hansel didn't really want that, he just wanted the bad parts of the fuckin' Leech to've not happened. Fucking Diva and her bullshit, double-bladed magic. Bitch was dead and still fucking with them. Well, not any goddamn more. He shook his head slightly. "Can't. Fuckin' ..." It was incomprehensible. "Guess when he was -- y'know -- had a vision of Mask, or some shit, I don't fuckin' ..." He shook his head again. "Mask told him to stop using it. Took it away. How a fuckin' god steals your shit when you're dead, I don't fuckin' know, but --." He let out a breath and dropped his face back into Mishka chest. "S'over, I guess, anyway." It was a nice little fantasy, though. For a moment. Mishka just ... fixing the problem. All clever and sly. Hansel sniffled. COYOTE "Ha. Good for Mask." Maybe Mishka would donate to his temple or something. Show some appreciation-- assuming Goro still worshipped him after having his wand snatched. Mishka gently tugged at Hansel's grip, requesting to be let up a moment-- not pushing, never pushing. IZZY Hansel pulled away reluctantly. COYOTE Mishka toed off his boots and unwrapped his cloak, then folded his legs and sat by Hansel's feet to do the same to him. He took Hansel's boots off, glancing up to meet his eyes a moment. When he was done, and they were both more comfortable, Mishka slid back onto the bed. He lay half on Hansel's chest so that Hansel could feel his weight, but half on his side so that they could curl up together again. "If he's okay, what's wrong?" Mishka said, carefully. Hansel was fucked up about this. Freaked out. Had to be something else there. IZZY Hansel let out another sigh as Mishka moved around, settling further into the exhaustion. It was almost comfortable -- he didn't have to worry or think or talk about anything, just be there, eyes closed until Mishka rested against him, and only cracking an eye open then to wrap his arms around Mishka and pull him in close. He didn't answer for a moment. Blinked up at the ceiling, then realized tears were pricking at his eyes. Ah, fuckin' great. So he wasn't too fucking tired to be upset anymore, it was just subdued now, slow and quiet. He curled his arms further around Mishka and locked his hands around his own wrists, digging his fingers in. Holding on tight never helped when Mishka cracked off. Hadn't helped when Goro slipped away. He always felt so fucking clingy, and it never even helped a goddamn thing. He sighed again, and closed his eyes. "Shouldn't've ..." It was jumbled. He needed to say it in order. "Wanted to be there. When he did it. Whether it fucked up or not, y'know, I didn't ... want him to be alone for it. And then it -- fucking --." The fucking Leech. Drained the life away. "I felt him ... leave. And he was empty, and I was the one fucking alone." He pulled Mishka to his face to hide against his soft hair, curling around him. "Shouldn't've fucking been there," he mumbled. "Knew it'd fuck me up. Fuckin' stupid." COYOTE Mishka’s fingers dug in. Something was off, here. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just Goro dying, he didn’t think. It was the way Hansel acted. Mishka knew Hansel, and he knew this: the way Hansel was alternately choking back sobs and staring dead-eyed at the ceiling, like everything hurt and yet he was too tired to feel anything. The way his body curled into Mishka like he was hiding. It made him want to kill something. Find whatever hurt Hansel and surgically remove it. If it was a person, easy enough, he’d find them and stab them in the throat. But other times, the thing that hurt Hansel was something more nebulous, something out of their control: an old memory, or a disjointed thought, or a half-buried fear, and Mishka had to tease it out, gently and carefully, like removing an old thorn from an infected wound. “My love,” he said. He rubbed Hansel’s back, pressing down hard with the heel of his hand to massage out tension. “How did you know it would fuck you up?” An old memory, maybe. Something bad. He wondered, briefly, about Hansel’s old crewmates. Hansel had been through several crews before Mishka discovered him in that bar and stole him away on his ship. Maybe something had happened to them. IZZY Hansel groaned quietly, way back in his throat. Didn't want to have to talk about it. It already wasn't fuckin' dead and buried, though, where it was goddamn supposed to be, and they'd done this enough times that he knew -- once he said it, he'd feel better. Mishka never made him feel bad about saying shit, just listened and stroked his hair. Gently told him off, sometimes, but didn't push so far he had to dig his heels in because he didn't know how to back down. Reassured him that it was okay, that he was okay, that Mishka had him. Tovta. Tov. He still wasn't going to stop hiding. Drew his shoulders in a bit and let go of his own wrists to grip Mishka's tunic instead, because it made him feel better -- less alone, even with his fuckin' entire face planted against Mishka already. Clingy bastard. Fucking Hansel Granger. (Bell. Still kept fucking thinking of himself as Granger. Hated it. Bell.) "Taavit," he blurted. Ah, fuck. He didn't even fuckin' know if Mishka'd recognize the name. Hansel didn't ... talk about him. He had, but it'd been years back now that he'd told Mishka about how Horns died, and how Hansel had killed the crew that'd taken him. Hadn't talked about it in detail even then -- tried to keep it buried. He was pretty sure he'd just fuckin' been drunk one night, 'cause he talked more easily when he was drunk, and some part of it'd come out and he'd ended up crying about it on Mishka's shoulder. (Taavit dying on his shoulder.) Fuckin' embarrassing. It was all kind of a blur. COYOTE Ah, Taavit. Who was Taavit? Mishka took a moment to try to remember. Some old friend of his, Mishka thought-- maybe a lover, he couldn't recall. Hansel slept with a lot of people. Taavit, he remembered, was dead. So. Hansel was upset, and it was about Taavit. That meant he needed to ask one of two questions: What did Taavit do, or what happened to Taavit? The second seemed more likely. "What happened to Taavit?" Mishka said against his hair. He pulled the sheets over them to give Hansel a place to hide. IZZY Hm. That was better. Dark and warm. Hansel freaked out in small spaces sometimes, but other times something like being hidden against Mishka's chest with a cover over him was ... nice. He didn't know why. Mishka, though, always seemed to know what to do for him. (Couldn't do anything for Horns. Goro, either. Tried to remind himself how Goro'd said that Hansel being there made him brave, at least; wasn't nothing. Maybe Horns'd been a little more comfortable, his head on Hansel's shoulder as he slipped away. Maybe he could tell himself that.) He sniffled. "Died." He tried to put it in order. "Fuckin' ... fuckin' pirates scuttled our ship. Stabbed him in the side." Could've probably made it if they hadn't been sparring, if Hansel hadn't hurt him already, but -- but he didn't even have the fucking ability to go down that path right now. "Tied us t'the mast, and -- and he didn't ... make it. Bled out." He squeezed Mishka tighter. "Next to me. Right on my shoulder. Couldn't even hold him. Didn't matter anyway." COYOTE Mishka let out a hard breath, throat suddenly tight, fingers digging into Hansel. He could imagine the same thing happening to him and Hansel-- could imagine pirates coming onto their ship, could imagine Hansel getting hurt, badly hurt, defending him. Lying on Mishka’s shoulder and slowly bleeding out while Mishka couldn’t fucking do anything about it. Then afterwards they’d toss Hansel’s body overhoard, feed it to the sharks, and he’d be impossible to find, impossible to revive. Yeah-- that was a nightmare. The very idea of it choked him. He compulsively checked the room again: porthole was too small to get through, only one door, and the door was locked and barred. They had Larkin, Luci, Gavi, and Goro upstairs, all fully rested and ready to go-- except Goro, he supposed, who’d need defending. And Mishka was at full strength, ready to blast apart any beast or ship that came at them. Safe. All safe. “It’s okay,” Mishka whispered. Probably wasn’t reassuring, the way his pulse thudded, the way his body tensed. He tried to force himself calm. “I’ve got you, my love.” He kissed Hansel’s hair. “What’d you do to them?” IZZY "Slit their throats," he said dully, distantly. "All of'em. In the night. Didn't bring him back." Then he'd wandered into port and gotten drunker than he ever had before, and a tiefling woman had taken him to her bedroom, and he'd let himself pretend it was the same. It was a distraction. It was how something had started. COYOTE God, Mishka loved him so fucking much. Served them right for hurting his husband’s loved one— served them right for hurting his husband. “Good,” Mishka said, kissing him over and over again. “Good. You did so good, my love.” It was understandable that didn’t make Hansel feel better. If someone ever killed Mishka, or Roddy, or Goro, or Jonn or Luci— well— of course Hansel would tear apart whoever did it, but that wouldn’t bring him relief. He didn’t say that, though, because he didn’t want to talk about Hansel’s loved ones all dying. Seemed like a poor choice at the moment. “You did so well,” Mishka murmured against his hair. IZZY Hansel whined in the back of his throat. "I fucking didn't," he forced out. "Couldn't hold onto him. Just fucking sat there. Fucking useless. Lost him." He wasn't really sure if he was still talking about Taavit, or Goro. Both, maybe, and clutching Mishka to try to keep from losing him again, too. "Can't fucking lose anyone else," he whispered. "I can't. I fucking can't." Roddy was smart and fuckin' sensible, and maybe he could talk his way out of trouble or pop away -- maybe he was just exhausted and couldn't respond. Maybe. Kid was a shield. He was tough. But Jonn was a fucking dumbass, and vicious, and there was no goddamn way that boy had the sense to still be alive if someone had attacked his home. Something had fucking happened. And if Roddy had tried to protect Jonn -- and he would, because Hansel had taught him to, fuckin' idiot, giving him a family and shit -- then they might both be dead. Because of Hansel. Hadn't been there to take care of them. COYOTE Mishka wanted to say, You’re not going to lose anyone else. You have me, and I have you, and we can protect them all. Except that wasn’t true. He’d fucking told them. He’d said, Joan, I’m not gonna stay here and get myself killed saving a bunch of limp-wristed pansies too delicate to defend themselves. He’d said, Oh my god. Look. I can steal a ship. We can go. We can just go, grab your damned wife. He’d thrown things at her. And now she was probably dead. No fucking way she’d leave the Sanctuary undefended. He’d only just gotten her, and now she was probably dead. He wanted to say something comforting, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t say: I’m sure they’re all fine. We can go save them. He wasn’t supposed to lie to Hansel anymore. “I know,” Mishka said, instead. Voice cracked against his will. IZZY Hansel held him tighter, squeezing the air out of him. He wanted to be reassuring, and he knew Mishka did too, but neither of them fucking knew what to do. There wasn't anything to goddamn say. Usually Hansel said shit like, I'll kill all of them. I'll take care of it. Don't even worry about it. But he hadn't fuckin' been there to kill everything that would hurt their family, and he didn't have magic and shit to make things better after the fact. He'd say, I got you. I got it. Yitav, it'll be fine, but he didn't fuckin' have it. Didn't goddamn have anything, he kept feeling like. "I got you," he whispered, though, because that much was fuckin' true. Still had Mishka, and Goro, and Luci and Raef and Larkin. Wasn't nothing. He'd fucking lost everything before and he knew he could survive it, even if it was only because someone was dragging him through it, but he had people left to drag him, and they could trade out sometimes and he would fucking drag them, too. God, he didn't fucking want to, though. He just wanted his family to fucking be okay. He just clung to Mishka, and mumbled, "I got you. I got you," between sniffles to remind himself. Or both of them. Wasn't fuckin' enough, anymore, maybe. But ti was something. COYOTE It was strange to realize that, a year ago, Mishka would’ve just fucked off. Taken care of himself and ditched everyone else. Now here he was. His intense paranoia applied to other people now, apparently. He used to be terrified of getting attached to people— And this was why. Too fucking scary when something happened to them. “We could just go,” Mishka said, throat tight. “You and me. Y’know. Fuck off.” IZZY "Y'know we can't," Hansel said softly. Nah. He'd seen Mishka with the others. Started with Goro, but it was Roddy and Raef, too, and Larkin despite the both of them, and Joan maybe more than anyone. Goddamn Joan. He knew she was too much the fuckin' same as he was. She'd do some dumb shit and get herself killed, like Jonn would. Amari was with her, though. God, as long as nothing'd fucking happened to Amari first. Wasn't gonna think about it. Nah. They both knew they couldn't fuck off anymore. Hansel'd done that for most of his life -- keeping his distance, leaving when he couldn't anymore -- and Mishka had probably been doin it even longer. They were fuckin' stuck here, now, though. New crew. Not making the same mistakes again. He thought that if he said yeah, let's fucking go, Mishka might do it, though. Crack him away, fuck off from the entire situation without asking a single question. Kind of comforting, in a weird way -- always having an escape plan. He just wasn't running anymore, and he wasn't going to tell Mishka that he wanted to. COYOTE “I know,” Mishka said miserably. “I just want to.” He said, “I fucking hate this. Everyone— Tricksy— Asenka, Aleks— all of them—“ Nope. Couldn’t keep going down that path, couldn’t keep kicking himself and blaming himself for their deaths. Took a steadying breath, instead, and pressed his face to Hansel’s shoulder so his tears would soak into Hansel’s shirt and it wouldn’t look like he was crying. “I know,” he said again. “I just want to. I don’t know how to do this.” He kept everyone away with knives and poison and sharp little lies, but then the moment he got close to someone, he swung to far to the other extreme. Too close. Too soft. Too protective. He didn’t like it. Burn a city to the ground to save someone and then ditch them in a heartbeat. IZZY "I know," Hansel said back, cradling Mishka's head against his shoulder and stroking his hair. "Me fuckin' either, ahuvi." Broke his fucking heart to hear Mishka so distressed, and to know he couldn't fucking fix it, couldn't help. They needed a goddamn plan. Mishka was better at plans. He tried to do that thing he did, where he was fuckin' flippant and didn't give a shit and acted like everything would be easy. "It'll be all right. We'll fuckin' ... storm the Sanctuary. Take it back. Bleed out anyone who tries to stop us. Hey." He kissed Mishka's hair. "Hey, Roddy's a real smart kid. Y'know that spell he's got, that thing with the rope? I bet he used that, hid out with Theo and Jonn, and Amari dragged Joan into it, too. And the thing just fuckin', y'know, keeps spells out, is all." He didn't know if it worked that way. Didn't matter if it did or not. He closed his eyes. Back-up plan. "And listen, my love, it'll be okay, even if everything fucking went wrong, it'll still be okay." He put all the fucking conviction he had left in him into it. "Promise you. We'll just fucking track down that Wish spell. Like we were gonna do anyway. Just me and you, if we have to, and it'll be good, 'cause no one can fucking stop us. No fuckin' dragon, no fuckin' god, nothin'. We'll get that spell and we'll just ... we'll fix fucking everything, all right? It'll be all right, khochav. We'll take care of it." COYOTE Mishka winced. He hated that he needed this. They both, he supposed, had a tendency to force down their own feelings and try to take care of other people, sometimes, though Hansel did it more often than him. He hated Hansel doing it for him. Knew Hansel was fucked up right now, and just putting on a brave face and look after him. He loved it, too, though. It was part of Hansel he loved: he loved Hansel’s kind and self-sacrificial nature as much as he loved Hansel’s brutality and cruelty. He supposed— sometimes— that Hansel was the strongest person he knew, and even if the world burned down around them they’d still be okay as long as they had each other’s backs. Even if they went down, they went down together. “Okay,” Mishka said hoarsely. “Okay.” Wrapped his arms around Hansel’s neck. “Ah, you’re right. Just being... emotional. Even if it all goes wrong— you and I, we’ll figure it out. And even if we don’t— that’ll be okay, too.” IZZY "Yeah," Hansel said weakly. They could just fuckin' lie to themselves and each other long enough to get to the Sanctuary, at least. Then ... who fuckin' knew. Maybe everything really would be all right. He wasn't fucking counting on it, but sure. There had to be a fucking middle ground somewhere between being positive that everyone was fucking dead already and insisting that everyone was completely fucking fine. Damned if he could get his head on that track, though. He let out a breath. Had this, though. "Yeah," he said, muffled against Mishka's hair. "Yeah. God. Couldn't fucking do this without you. We got it, though. S'fine." COYOTE “Y’know we never had this many disasters before we became... whatever this is. Mercenaries. Adventurers?” Mishka hummed to himself. “Maybe we ought to be pirates again. We had a good eight years...” Until Mishka, himself, became the disaster. IZZY "Mm." He didn't get as ill from just being on the sea as he used to. It was ... getting better. Maybe him and Kheman could at least take Jonn and Larkin sailing, finally. Except that Jonn was dead. He nestled against Mishka closer and let it just be a harmless fuckin' fantasy. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Fuck the land, right? Fuckin' orc armies and guilds and shit. Fuck'em." COYOTE “Mhm. Fuck the land.” Mishka started musing out loud. “Roddy can be our heavy-hitter. Raef can come, if he likes. He and Jonn would be good at swinging from the ropes, boarding enemy ships, and gutting enemy spellcasters. They could work together. Goro... ah, Goro would be such a clever pirate. Ship medic, if he liked, or just helping destroy all our enemies, or both. Larkin... Larkin would stay ashore, likely. I know she’s got that business now with her weird grouchy friend. Luci... who knows what Luci would do. Joan...” And then Mishka got quiet, because there was no place in his pirate fantasy for Joan. IZZY "Joan'd keep us on the fuckin' straight and narrow," Hansel supplied. "Privateers, yeah? Just goin' after the real pirates. Tellin' us we can't keelhaul people and shit." Roddy probably wouldn't care for that kind of thing, either, to be fair. He was glad the kid'd decided to keep working with her. She was good for him -- better than Hansel was, he imagined. So they had to fuckin' be all right. Joan'd look out for Roddy. He kissed Mishka's hair. "Fuckin' stick in the mud, that woman, but I s'pose we'd keep her around." Tried to make it sound all light-hearted and shit. God, fucking Joan. Better not've fucking died. COYOTE “Yeah.” Then Mishka sniffled for a while. That sounded good. “Ah. The fucking dragon, though... oh well. We’ll... kill it first, maybe.” He hardly noticed the cuff anymore. It felt so light, compared to how it used to. IZZY "Mm." I asked Mask how to kill Gruumsh. But he wouldn't fucking tell me, 'cause he says Rexarius is the problem I need to be worrying about now. "Yeah. Yeah." Hansel kissed Mishka's hair again, then rested his cheek against it. "Gonna kill that fuckin' dragon. Don't worry about it." COYOTE “And Amren,” Mishka mused to himself. “That one’s still alive, right? Don’t like that one running around. And darling Miss Basha— Jasmilia, I mean. And Gruumsh.” Fucking Gruumsh. He sighed. He was quiet a while, resting against Hansel’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. “I don’t want to lose you to this,” he said hoarsely. He felt himself tear up again. He rested his hand against Hansel’s face. “I don’t want you to... disappear in a puff of smoke and lightning like Griffin. I can’t... just... lose you again.” His throat hurt. IZZY Hansel grunted quietly in agreement at the kill list. Yeah, he supposed they did have some shit to take care of on the land, before they could tell it to go fuck itself. That'd be nice, though. Back on the ocean with his captain, reasserting their fucking dominance over the southern seas. Let the rabble regret ever forgetting to leave watchmen out all night, eyes fearful on sharp lookout for the Red Blade. Good dream. He managed to get lost in it, for a little bit. Then, when Mishka spoke again, his throat tightened up. He wanted to be able to say, You won't, you won't lose me, gonna kill a god, don't be scared, ahuvi, but he was too fucking scared of it himself. Every bit he'd relaxed was lost as he squeezed Mishka again. The old temple had smelled like lightning and scorching skin. He had powered through it because Mishka and Goro were there, fuckin' Luci was there, and he couldn't lose his shit because he had to protect them. And then it'd been over in that flash of red light -- he could fucking swear he'd seen Gruumsh's eye in it, glaring out at him -- and all he'd been able to think about was Raef. God, poor fucking Raef. Alone. Again. He couldn't let that happen to Mishka, couldn't let it happen to Goro, couldn't leave his kids behind. "I know," he managed. "I know, I -- I can't ... I don't know what to do." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so fucking scared, Mishka. If he fucking comes for me harder now that Griffin's gone ..." Selune was helping him, or fuckin' whatever. But god. God. COYOTE Yeah, there it was again: that desire to kill something, cut the throat of whatever scared his Weapons Master. Find it and take it apart, piece by piece, make it understand what it did, why this was happening to it, the mistake it made threatening his husband. Except the thing, in this case, was a god. “I know,” Mishka said. Dropped his voice to a whisper. “I know. You want to know a secret, my love?” IZZY Hansel made a small, pathetic sound. COYOTE Mishka kissed his ears, his nose, then his tusk, and each of the scars on his face and neck. “If someone mortal scared you like that, I’d find them and take them apart, piece by piece. I’d heat a blade to cauterize the wounds, then pry up their fingernails and toenails, then cut off each one at a time. I’d explain, gently and patiently, what exactly they did wrong, and make them apologize, and explain back what they did. I’d teach them how to beg, my love, and then I’d keel-haul them, and if they were still alive after that, I’d ask Goro to patch them up, so we could do it again tomorrow. I want to scare them.” He wanted them to understand exactly how powerless and scared they made his husband feel. He’d teach them the meaning of compassion. Gently. Carefully. He kissed Hansel’s face again. “Maybe we ought to find a way to make Gruumsh mortal. D’you suppose that’s possible? Suck the divine spark out of him.” IZZY Hansel closed his eyes, willing himself to settle under Mishka's touch. Probably wasn't normal to be soothed by hearing about how someone would torture your enemies, but the precise, matter-of-fact way Mishka explained it was calming. Like it was just a foregone conclusion that anyone and anything that fucked with Hansel was going to suffer. Of course it was. Like it was as natural a process as evaporation and rainfall. He fucking hated feeling powerless. Hated feeling trapped and scared and childish, like he was still hiding in the woods until it was late at night, and dinner was cold, but at least Elijah'd had enough time to have too much to drink and pass out. He could close his eyes, though, and remind himself that Mishka wasn't powerless, and was on his side. Mishka would take anyone who hurt him apart, piece by piece, and he would be calm and serene the entire time. Because it was fucking fair. Mishka would patiently remind Hansel that no one was allowed to hurt him, and the things that happened to people when they did were fucking just, because Hansel deserved to be defended. Deep breaths. He sniffled. "Dunno," he mumbled. "If anyone can do it it's you, though." COYOTE That was true. Maybe. Or he'd make something worse. Mishka brooded on this decision a bit. Maybe they ought to just kill Gruumsh as fast as possible to get Hansel out of danger as fast as possible. Maybe. Eh, he'd ask Goro. Goro had a good head for those types of decisions. He'd understand the urge to make it hurt, but understand the urge to get Hansel out of danger as fast as possible. Mishka's stomach made a noise. "Ah," Mishka said. He paused. "Neshama, I have a confession." IZZY: "Mmf." COYOTE "I lied about eating." He bet Hansel had been too busy looking after Goro to eat, too. Bet he could get Hansel to eat dinner if he brought some. IZZY: Hansel grumbled. "Why'd you fuckin' go an' do that." He fumbled to find Mishka's face without looking, and planted his hand over it like he was going to shove Mishka away, but didn't. "Gotta fuckin' eat." COYOTE "Mmmphf," Mishka said, eloquently, and snuggled Hansel closer anyway. IZZY: "No. No hugs 'til you eat." Hansel didn't stop hugging him. COYOTE Mishka pawed at the hand on his face. "I could get food," he said, but it came out as something like my 'od gef food. IZZY: "Mm. Stew in the galley." Was probably cold now, but Mishka could warm it up. Sorcerer husband. God, that was convenient. COYOTE "Mmm." Mishka attempted to claw his way out of bed. IZZY: "Mm," Hansel agreed, and didn't move or help at all. COYOTE Mishka huffed and fought to roll over. Hansel didn't budge. "Hans," he said, managing to get his face away long enough. He lowered his voice, made it sweet and cajoling. "Let me up, my love. Let me feed you, eh? Bring you things? Let me stroke your hair, elohay, ba'ali. Doesn't that sound good? Mm?" His tone was a little mocking. IZZY: Hansel cracked an eye at him. COYOTE Mishka kept going. "Oh, my lord, my god, my master, please let me up to go bring us both food, and rub your feet and worship you--" IZZY: Hansel pushed him out of the bed. COYOTE Mishka stood up and brushed himself off. "I count this as a victory. I want you to know that. I won, just now." IZZY: Hansel rolled to plant his face in the pillow. "Mmf." COYOTE Mishka paused. He patted Hansel for a minute or two, slowly carding his fingers through the thick hair on the nape of Hansel's neck, scratching Hansel's scalp, and stroking him all the way down his back. He paused, his hand lingering there, then turned to go get food for them both. END Category:Text Roleplay